The Quarantine of Dreams: September 1-15, 2020 | Banbury, England
In my head, I wasn’t sure if I was going to “blog” on this trip, even though I have every other time we’ve traveled and it’s a priceless record. Somehow this trip felt different or “wasn’t really traveling since we kind of moved over here” after selling our car and getting rid of all our shit in the U.S. or whatever the fuck.
But in reality this is going to be a grand adventure with lots of different phases and I definitely want to capture it all. It was quite the fucking journey getting to this point - and it started back in 2012 when we began hosting travelers in our home via Airbnb.
Up until that point — I had traveled like a “regular American” (a couple of two-week international trips during the few years I was married) and Kris hadn’t traveled much at all, and had never been overseas. I got divorced in 2009 and Kris and I got together in 2010. At that point I was already “out of the rat race” as I had quit my desk job and started working as a birth doula. By 2011, Kris had a similar shift - he short sold his house, walked away from his I.T. company, and we set ourselves up to have low monthly overhead so that we could just spend our days doing what lit us up inside.
In 2012 we rented a cheap house that we loved and ended up living in for the next 7 years. Our dear friend rented one of the spare rooms and with the other - we listed it on Airbnb. That really changed the course of our lives. We met so many amazing people from around the world and took our first lengthy trip (5 weeks) in 2013 traveling all over the U.K. and Europe visiting people that had stayed with us through Airbnb. Travel became very important to us and was our top priority.
Since Phoenix is so oppressively hot in the summer, we started subletting our house for the summer and spending that time traveling. We did this in 2014, 2016, and 2018 and traveled to 15 different countries, typically renting monthly Airbnbs and living like a local. We always had the goal to travel full-time and be financially independent, but we could never crack the nut of making money on the internet. For years on end we tried so many things to just see what “stuck” (we had a blog, a podcast, an e-course, e-books, we did consulting, hosted classes, led retreats, facilitated workshops, had a food business, offered our services in various ways, etc.) but nothing ever worked, it was all just such a hustle and was not sustainable.
It’s a very long convoluted story, but in 2017 we started investing and learning about finance and that quickly became our long-term plan. In the short-term we were determined to create steady income streams so that we could have more money to invest. I scoped out a woman on Instagram who was certifiably insane, but was an influencer with promise — I “slid into her DMs”, as they say, and it worked — she hired me as her virtual assistant and started paying me every week. Kris also took a part-time job and we felt like we were well on our way. Our overhead was so low and we had learned to live so cheaply that we were able to invest nearly every dollar I made from crazy influencer lady and use Kris’ part time salary for our basic living expenses.
And at the beginning of 2020 we started to think - hey, maybe we can finally leave Phoenix and take this show on the road. We planned our exit for September 1st, 2020.
Obviously the planning started pre-Covid - so to make it actually happen during Covid was a huge accomplishment. And covid or not, it was just a big life transition leaving Phoenix for good. I was born here, Kris has lived here for 20+ years, and us leaving was years in the making. Once we made the decision in January 2020, it was 8 solid (er- rocky) months of planning and going through the phases of getting rid of stuff, selling stuff, basically going thru your entire life up to that point deciding what matters. Then there was the logistics of deciding how to handle each of our employment situations. I decided not to tell the lady I worked for as a V.A. since it was all virtual / random hours and she wouldn’t know the difference, but Kris had to tell his job since he kept regular “hours” and that would have to change - so that was months of anxiety, stress, and meeting after fucking meeting trying to sell it to them - the idea that he could do his job remote. It’s funny what a mind fuck that is for your average person — particularly before covid hit. And then just the other life stuff of selling the car at the last possible minute, giving notice on our condo lease, getting our deposit back, packing up and storing everything, on top of planning actual travel logistics and all of that. But we pulled it off.
And honestly — Covid ultimately helped push as forward as the whole world went remote. It was a little questionable for let’s say — March & April of 2020….whether we were going to be able to still go ahead with our plan, but at a certain point — you just have to call it. You either have to go for it or cancel it. So we decided to just go for it and hope it worked out.
To start, we booked two-weeks at an Airbnb in Banbury which is a small city just east of the Cotswolds in the depth of the English countryside. Originally we had planned to go out to Cornwall to stay with a Workaway host, but at the actual last minute (a week before our flight) things started to feel weird with the host and we changed our minds. Which was sort of funny because finding that host had seemed serendipitous and we’d had great communication for months and it seemed very much meant to be. But none of that matters when all of the sudden it isn’t. It’s never too late to change your mind if it doesn’t feel right.
Thankfully, after many mind numbing hours combing through Airbnb listings, we found the place in Banbury - a perfect little guest cottage on the grounds of a 13 acre property. The perfect quarantine spot (at the time there was a mandatory two-week quarantine upon entering the U.K.). We had been looking at cute little apartments in cute little cities, but truthfully none of that mattered for a quarantine period. It is best not to be tempted by a city at your doorstep and I didn’t want to be stuck inside with no access to the outdoors.
So first, let’s start with the flight. Or should I say - literally 20 minutes before we were leaving for the airport. Actually no, it’s sort of funnier to start the night before. We had the best last night. It was end of August 2020 in Phoenix, so we had been sweating our balls off. Our condo was basically empty except for our suitcases and we had our camping bed setup for the last night with our gigantic TV on the floor in front of it. We ate leftover pizza and watched trashy TV and it all felt very surreal. I felt happy, but what was more surprising was how at peace I felt. I didn’t feel anxious or unsure or nervous or anything I figured I would.
We hardly slept, but just from the nervous excitement. I think I dozed off finally a little after 2am and was awake with the sun at quarter to five - relieved that it was finally morning and we could get on with it. The morning was so relaxed. We made instant oatmeal in styrofoam cups and I was just sort of marveling at the whole thing. That it was actually happening. I was so happy it was terrifying, in a way. This is something I had fantasized about doing for so many years, but just could never swing it financially as we could never crack the nut of making money on the internet / working remotely / being digital nomads. And we finally had, albeit barely, and not super securely, but we decided to take “the risk”. Because the greater risk was staying in Phoenix, miserable and wasting away. We had nothing to lose. ANYWAY.
We started loading the last few boxes out onto our second story balcony in preparation for my dad to arrive and back his pickup truck up to the balcony for us to hand over the boxes. Kris and I were both running around just doing the final last minute things. It’s very fucking weird to move on the same day that you’re also flying. Because there’s no going back. Everything has to be done, packed, cleaned, good to go, finished. There’s no wiggle room and no going back later or tomorrow.
I was in the kitchen, and from around the corner I heard, you know - that sound from another human when you just know something is wrong. Kris had ruptured his bicep tendon. He had picked up the TV to move it and his tendon just snapped. I didn’t immediately know that though and I thought he had been impaled or something, but I ran around the corner and didn’t see any blood or any bones sticking out. He was just sort of in a heap on the floor and I sat cross legged next to him so that he could rest his head on my leg.
The whole world was spinning and he kept saying, “I’m going to need surgery” and I didn’t really know what had happened or how bad it was, but he was ghost white and in a complete panic, so I mean. It was bad. He was able to stand up and I started tearing open boxes to find his insurance card and he frantically called his boss/best friend to see if his insurance was even still valid. It was the last day of the month and the last day of the pay period where he was technically a salaried employee with benefits (once we left he was switched to an hourly rate and would be 1099’d and not be an actual employee anymore).
I tried to call Urgent Care, but couldn’t get an actual human. I asked him how bad it was and what he needed and if we should go to the E.R. but he couldn’t really answer me. He was in shock. I said I would do whatever he wanted and that we could always change flights and rearrange things. But with each minute that passed I knew that if we did that, it would ruin everything. I knew that if we went to the E.R., all the money we saved would go just for that visit, let alone surgery or whatever other care he needed. God bless America.
I know it sounds really dramatic, but I felt like I was standing at a crossroads and that this was a really important moment in my life. I honestly saw scenes flashing in my head of the past and the future. I looked him in the eyes and said, “Do you think you can make it?” I kept asking him that and he just couldn’t answer. I remember very calmly and very directly saying, “I think we should go and deal with this over there. Get right off the plane and go to A&E. Do you think you can make it?” (A&E = the E.R.)
Our first flight was to Atlanta, and then from Atlanta direct to London. I said, “Do you think you can make it to Atlanta?” I figured it was 3 and a half hours and if things got worse or he just couldn’t make it we could always bail there and reassess.
It probably sounds crazy to say that, and in the moment I was even thinking that it probably seemed like I was being impulsive, selfish even. But I really did feel confident. I heard my dad pull up so I kind of yelled at Kris to sit still and not to move and I would go out and talk to my dad. I told him what had happened and was very direct with him as well. I’m actually really good in a crisis. I told him to sit in the cab of his truck with the AC on so he didn’t overheat while I went back inside and reassessed Kris.
At this point, time was so tight it was really getting down to it. Kris sat in the corner while I ran around like a literal mad woman packing the last of the shit and heaving every fucking thing over the balcony to my dad. I was beet red, huffing and puffing, it was literally 115 degrees out, I was so hot and my heart was beating so fast I felt like I was going to pass out. It was literally just sheer adrenaline.
When it got down to it I was literally just throwing things over the second story balcony into the truck bed. After I threw over the last thing, I ran inside and rinsed off quickly in the shower, dried with a hand towel that I left hanging on the rack, and got dressed. Then I had to carefully help Kris get dressed because he couldn’t put on his socks, shoes, pants, or anything. I took one final look around and then we ran out the door. I thought for sure later I would have a Catherine O’Hara moment of panic at what I had forgotten, but I didn’t. It was a fucking miracle.
We made it to the airport and it was all like an out of body experience. I was still really scared. I didn’t know if Kris was going to make it through the flight, or if we would make it to England, or if they would treat him there or if he would have to have an expensive surgery or if they would send us the fuck home at the border or what was going to happen next.
I don’t even remember the first flight. I think I watched part of You’ve Got Mail. I remember eating a really stale scone. We made it to Atlanta and it seemed like Kris had stabilized and at the very least - it wasn’t getting worse.
We got on the next flight. And it was fine. I ended up just binging Friends for the majority of the seven hours. I felt good when we landed - less groggy than normal, but probably still just benefiting from the adrenaline. Like I said. I’m pretty good in a crisis and can just go full on and make it happen. I was nervous about landing and immigration, but it was so easy. Literally nothing about the travel experience was different at all, except that everyone had masks on. I expected there to be a lot more headache involved. The minute we passed through passport control, I felt a huge sense of relief, like the final step had actually been taken. There were so many things that could’ve gone wrong and so many checkpoints to tick off. But we were there, safely in the country. Again, just absolutely felt surreal.
We took a couple of different trains to our Airbnb. Oh, and also a bus and had to walk along a sketch road for a minute, but we got there in one piece. The street was idyllic and the whole property was behind a big gate so it makes for a grand and dramatic entrance. Our host, Julie, popped her head out and greeted us and then just let us be. She knew we were tired and dirty and whacked out of our minds.
The little cottage was a fucking dream. It was so cute and better than it looked in the photos. We were very careful with our shoes and our luggage and removed our clothing like it was covered in dog shit. We basically just assumed everything was covered in Covid, including ourselves and everything we were wearing, and treated it as such.
We were settled in our cottage by about 3pm and it was incredibly chill, the weather was amazing - to be out of the heat was just so rejuvenating. It was 60 degrees and proper autumn and I loved it. At that point we were just waiting for our grocery delivery. I had included a ready made fish pie that we could just chuck in the oven, which we did, and then we passed out.
OH, sweet fucking bliss. First cup of tea and cookies. In my robe. In the cottage. We made it.
The next morning we were up while it was still dark out. We went downstairs, got our coffee and scones, and came back up to eat breakfast in bed while waiting for the sun to come up.
Around 8am we texted our host Julie about Kris’ arm and she very fucking kindly offered to drive him to A&E. The British, man. They’re just so fucking neighborly. I stayed behind and waited and he came back in a taxi less than two hours later having had a fucking lovely hospital experience. It’s just night and day different. I mean can you imagine how different a medical system is that is not even set up to collect money from patients? It was incredibly efficient and everyone was super nice. He was x-rayed and examined and sent home without a word about a bill. (He had a follow up appointment for an ultrasound, which confirmed that yes - the biceps tendon was torn clean off the bone. Since we were only there in that city for the two weeks of quarantine, it was decided that he would pursue further treatment in the next city since we’d be there for nearly two months.)
That night we passed out again at 7pm and woke up again in the dark early morning hours. Funnily enough - the third night, we still went to bed at grandma hour, but somehow we slept until 8am, and that made it easier to go to bed later that night and begin waking up at a more normal hour.
Quite literally coming back to life.
A few days in we also met our host Julie’s husband, Marcus. He was lighting a giant pile of shit on fire so naturally we went to see what was going on. He was the cutest, nicest, totally quintessential British man. We chatted around the fire and then asked him what was up in the gigantic barn/garage building and he invited us inside.
He just has a boat load of cars that he races as a hobby and extremely casually has an agreement with the Aston Martin museum where they store their overflow cars in his garage. As one does.
Marcus explained that there was a forest path that outlined the entire perimeter of their property, which we didn’t know, and turned out to be the coolest thing ever. The property is 13 acres, so the path outlining it was quite long and really beautiful. Imagine just having that as part of your backyard. He also pointed us in the direction of a walking path down the street that went through a battleground from the battle of Cropredy that was, “A while ago - you know, 3 or 4 hundred years ago.” Casual. He was just so pleasant and is one of the first people who, upon hearing our plan was crypto investing, nodded in agreement instead of saying, “Oh my gawd, I could NEVER do that.” He had dabbled in it himself, held some Bitcoin personally, and thought it was a smart plan. EVERYTHING IS BETTER HERE FUCK.
The days kind of blend together, but one of the days we walked up to the little village store to get a few things. Another day we walked across the battleground path and another day walked along the other walking path, which was accessible by hopping their back fence. We had to cross a field with some large horses though and that was a little sketch.
Another night we went out after dinner to watch the sunset from one of the fields. Everything is just so idyllic and every day has just been so goddamn pleasant. Even the days where we’ve had to do work. Kris just has to work a few hours a day and those few hours are broken up throughout the day so it doesn’t feel like much. This whole move was just a massive step in the right direction. In hindsight there were so many shaky moments and I’m really glad I fought so hard to make this happen. I still can’t really believe it. I mean. It’s probably my greatest accomplishment so far.
Later on in the first week we got another grocery delivery, this time from Tesco and it was fucking awesome. Goddamn whole package of sandwich cream cookies for 40p. What. A package of six scones for a pound. Food is so fucking cheap over here, even with the exchange rate.
It’s also been super fun to watch the Formula One races live. Most days are just coffee and scones in bed or, if it’s not too cold, outside. A little walk around the forest, back inside to work a little and have some lunch. Back outside the walk around, feed the donkeys, watch the sheep. Back inside for a little more work and then make a bomb ass dinner and watch some cheese dick British TV. I can’t fucking even with all this. Before we concocted a plan to leave Phoenix, I was literally crying most days out of sadness and frustration. We were broke, the timing was never right, an opportunity never presented itself, you know - all the reasons. It was all just a dark hole and I couldn’t see a way out. Getting out of Phoenix felt like literally fighting for my life. I couldn’t keep living like that and I made this trip happen by just forcing the issue. I would’ve done work trades if I had to, anything to just get the fuck out. To move. To live. Instead of just rotting in that condo.
Ok, anyway, Idyllic England. The rams in particular are fucking hilarious. Two of them are old ass grandpas with the most gigantic ballsacks you have ever seen. Also they just randomly ram the shit out of each other.
Oh, also - the donkeys come to us now. They know we have apples (there’s a huge orchard onsite). And now even the sheep are coming over to us. It’s so fun. I enjoy so much being outside and just watching the fucking trees blow in the wind or watching the animals. It activates a different part of your brain and nervous system than TV or your phone or whatever the fuck else. And walking, on uneven ground - on dirt and leaves - instead of fucking concrete sidewalks...I don’t even know how to describe it. It feels like the best of both worlds. Being deeeep into nature with so much natural pleasure just a part of your daily life, but also having internet and grocery delivery and modern comforts.
I feel night and day different, mentally and physically, and the change was instant. It was so nice to just immediately know this was the right decision. I think I cried every day the first week we were here just out of happiness and RELIEF to have left Phoenix, to have taken a giant step forward and to just be getting on with life.
We celebrated our ten year anniversary here so I ordered a food delivery from this cute little place called Magnificent Marrow. And it was just every day people prices, with a $15 minimum for delivery. So many nice things are just so accessible here.
We are here a few more days and then headed to our cottage in Garforth for 6 weeks. I can’t wait. Except that I can, you know? That’s another thing. Being so fucking content. It’s an unfamiliar feeling. To not be wishing the time away. To not be desperate for the next thing, to not always be yearning for something in the future. Fuuuuuuck. It’s so wild. Like actual peace and happiness to the depths of my fucking soul. I could get used to this.